For completeness, I would like to mention another possible location for enormous quantities of diamond – a place, unfortunately, even more inaccessible than the core of a giant planet…
It has been suggested that the crusts of neutron stars may be largely composed of diamond. As the nearest known neutron star is fifteen light years away, and has a surface gravity seventy thousand million times that of Earth, this can hardly be regarded as a plausible source of supply.
But then – who could ever have imagined that one day we would be able to touch the core of Jupiter?
57
Interlude on Ganymede
‘These poor, primitive colonists!’ lamented Mihailovich. ‘I’m horrified – there’s not a single concert grand on the whole of Ganymede! Of course, the thimbleful of optronics in my synthesizer can reproduce any musical instrument. But a Steinway is still a Steinway – just as a Strad is still a Strad.’
His complaints, though not altogether serious, had already aroused some counter-reactions among the local intelligentsia. The popular Morning Mede programme had even commented maliciously: ‘By honouring us with their presence, our distinguished guests have – if only temporarily – raised the cultural level of both worlds…’
The attack was aimed chiefly at Willis, Mihailovich and M’Bala, who had been a little too enthusiastic in bringing enlightenment to the backward natives. Maggie M had created quite a scandal with an uninhibited account of Zeus-Jupiter’s torrid love affairs with Io, Europa, Ganymede and Callisto. Appearing to the nymph Europa in the guise of a white bull was bad enough, and his attempts to shield Io and Callisto from the understandable wrath of his consort Hera were frankly pathetic. But what upset many local residents was the news that the mythological Ganymede was of quite the wrong gender.
To do them justice, the intentions of the self-appointed cultural ambassadors were completely praiseworthy, though not entirely disinterested. Knowing that they would be stranded on Ganymede for months, they recognized the danger of boredom, after the novelty of the situation had worn off. And they also wished to make the best possible use of their talents, for the benefit of everyone around them. However, not everyone wished – or had time – to be benefited, out here on the high-technology frontier of the Solar System.
Yva Merlin, on the other hand, fitted in perfectly, and was thoroughly enjoying herself. Despite her fame on Earth, few of the Medes had ever heard of her. She could wander around, in the public corridors and pressure domes of Ganymede Central, without people turning their heads or exchanging excited whispers of recognition. True, she was recognized – but only as another of the visitors from Earth.
Greenburg, with his usual quietly efficient modesty, had fitted into the administrative and technological structure of the satellite and was already on half a dozen advisory boards. His services were so well appreciated that he had been warned he might not be allowed to leave.
Heywood Floyd observed the activities of his shipmates with relaxed amusement, but took little part in them. His chief concern now was building bridges to Chris, and helping his grandson plan his future. Now that Universe – with less than a hundred tons of propellant left in its tanks – was safely down on Ganymede, there was much to be done.
The gratitude that all aboard Galaxy felt towards their rescuers had made it easy to merge the two crews; when repairs, overhaul and refuelling were complete, they would fly back to Earth together. Morale had already been given a great boost by the news that Sir Lawrence was drawing up the contract for a greatly improved Galaxy II – though construction was not likely to begin until his lawyers had settled their dispute with Lloyd’s. The underwriters were still trying to claim that the novel crime of space hijacking was not covered by their policy.
As for that crime itself, no-one had been convicted, or even charged. Clearly, it had been planned, over a period of several years, by an efficient and well-funded organization. The United States of Southern Africa loudly protested innocence, and said it welcomed an official enquiry. Der Bund also expressed indignation, and of course blamed SHAKA.
Dr Kreuger was not surprised to find angry but anonymous messages in his mail, accusing him of being a traitor. They were usually in Afrikaans, but sometimes contained subtle mistakes in grammar or phraseology which made him suspect that they were part of a disinformation campaign.
After some thought, he passed them onto ASTROPOL – which probably already has them, he told himself wryly. ASTROPOL thanked him, but, as he expected, made no comments.
At various times, Second Officers Floyd and Chang and other members of Galaxy’s crew were treated to the best dinners on Ganymede by the two mysterious out-wonders whom Floyd had already met. When the recipients of these (frankly disappointing) meals compared notes afterwards, they decided that their polite interrogators were trying to build up a case against SHAKA, but were not getting very far.
Dr van der Berg, who had started the whole thing – and had done very well out of it, professionally and financially – was now wondering what to do with his new opportunities. He had received many attractive offers from Earth universities and scientific organizations – but, ironically, it was impossible to take advantage of them. He had now lived too long at Ganymede’s one-sixth of a gravity, and had passed the medical point of no return.
The Moon remained a possibility; so did Pasteur, as Heywood Floyd explained to him.
‘We’re trying to set up a space university there,’ he said, ‘so that offworlders who can’t tolerate one gee can still interact in real time with people on Earth. We’ll have lecture halls, conference rooms, labs – some of them will only be computer-stored, but they’ll look so real you’d never know. And you’ll be able to go videoshopping on Earth, to make use of your ill-gotten gains.’
To his surprise, Floyd had not only rediscovered a grandson – he had adopted a nephew; he was now linked to van der Berg as well as Chris by a unique mix of shared experiences. Above all, there was the mystery of the apparition in the deserted Europan city, beneath the looming presence of the Monolith.
Chris had no doubts whatsoever. ‘I saw you, and heard you, as clearly as I do now,’ he told his grandfather. ‘But your lips never moved – and the strange thing is that I didn’t feel that was strange – it seemed perfectly natural. The whole experience had a – relaxed feeling about it. A little sad – no, wistful would be a better word. Or maybe resigned.’
‘We couldn’t help thinking of your encounter with Bowman, aboard Discovery,’ added van der Berg.
‘I tried to radio him before we landed on Europa. It seemed a na�ve thing to do, but I couldn’t imagine any alternative. I felt sure he was there, in some form or other.’
‘And you never had any kind of acknowledgement?’
Floyd hesitated. The memory was fading fast, but he suddenly recalled that night when the mini-monolith had appeared in his cabin.
Nothing had happened, yet from that moment onwards he had felt that Chris was safe, and that they would meet again.
‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘I never had any reply.’ After all, it could only have been a dream.
VIII
THE KINGDOM OF SULPHUR
58
Fire and Ice
Before the age of planetary exploration opened in the late twentieth century, few scientists would have believed that life could have flourished on a world so fan from the Sun. Yet for half a billion years, the hidden seas of Europa had been at least as prolific as those of Earth.
Before the ignition of Jupiter, a crust of ice had protected those oceans from the vacuum above. In most places the ice was kilometres thick, but there were lines of weakness where it had cracked open and torn apart. Then there had been a brief battle between two implacably hostile elements, which came into direct contact on no other world in the Solar System. The war between Sea and Space always ended in the same stalemate; the exposed water simultaneously boiled and froze, repairing the armour of ice.
The seas of Europa would have frozen completely solid long ago, without the influence of nearby Jupiter. Its gravity continually kneaded the core of this little world; the forces that convulsed Io were also working here, though with much less ferocity. The tug of war between planet and satellite caused continual submarine earthquakes, and avalanches which swept with amazing speed across the abyssal plains.
Scattered across those plains were countless oases, each extending for a few hundred metres around a cornucopia of mineral brines gushing from the interior. Depositing their chemicals in a tangled mass of pipes and chimneys, they sometimes created natural parodies of ruined castles or Gothic cathedrals, from which black, scalding liquids pulsed in a slow rhythm, as if driven by the beating of some mighty heart. And, like blood, they were the authentic sign of life itself.